


Promises

by anoceannothingfloatson



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, dub-con, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoceannothingfloatson/pseuds/anoceannothingfloatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this anonymous prompt: 'Thomas/Bates when Bates is new at Downton, hate turns to love? I’ve never seen Thomas/Bates fics anywhere, and I ship it so much! I think I’m the only one though? Anyway, would love a fic with the two of them together! :)'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Written during season 3 but set in season one?

 “What chance did he have, up against a champion?” Thomas asks.

 Bates grabs him by the collar and throws him against the wall, a tiny smirk creeping onto his face when he hears the  _thud_  of Thomas’ head hitting the solid surface.

 “Now you listen, you filthy little rat, if you don’t lay off I will cut your shining teeth through the back of your skull.”

 “Is this supposed to frighten me, Mr Bates?” Thomas asks, his face carefully blank but Bates can hear the smugness in his voice. “Because if it is, it isn’t working. I’m sorry but it’s just not working.”

 Bates slams him against the wall once again, his frustrations spilling over, and Thomas meets his gaze with a cocked eyebrow and the smallest of smiles and all Bates wants to do is beat the expression from his face.

 He doesn’t.

 He kisses Thomas instead.

 The younger man freezes under his lips but Bates doesn’t stop.

 He had seen the way Thomas had looked at the Duke of Crowborough and then the Turkish gentleman and he has worked out what Thomas is.

 He knows how to hurt Thomas.

 And Thomas is glaring at him when Bates pulls away, his lips pulled back in a grimace.

 “You bastard.” He whispers but then he smashes his mouth against Bates’ and fists his hands in Bates’ shirt and they’re suddenly warring for dominance.

 Bates slams him into the wall for a third time and Thomas bites his bottom lip and sneers at the groan of pain it elicits.

 “Your room.” Bates growls.

 He barely waits for Thomas to open the door before he throws him into the room, not caring when the footman falls into the tiny table and he and it crash to the floor, and he makes sure to lock the door once it’s closed.

 “And here was me thinking you were all empty threats.” Thomas drawls, dragging himself to his knees.

 “Shut up.” Bates hisses.

 He hauls Thomas to his feet and throws him on the bed and descends upon him before he has chance to right himself.

 They’re kissing again but they’re biting and swearing and tearing at each other’s clothes, too, and Bates realises that Thomas could overpower him if he wanted to and anger floods through him because Thomas  _wants_  this.

 “You’re a sick man.” Bates tells him between gasps for air.

 “Yet you’re still here.” Thomas grins and this time Bates does hit him, not hard enough to do any lasting damage but enough to draw blood. Thomas’ smile just grows, “are you going to get on with it or not?”

Thomas’ hands are unbuttoning Bates’ trousers and Bates knows he should stop because this has gone too far already.

 But he doesn’t, he can’t, not when Thomas is looking at him with that smug look on his face.

 He makes short work of the younger man’s trousers and flips him onto his front and lets out a grunt of satisfaction at the pained yelp Thomas tries to smother in his pillow when he thrusts into him.

Thomas doesn’t fight him and Bates doesn’t stop despite the obvious pain he’s causing.

 He needs to finish this, he needs to show Thomas that there is weight behind his words.

 He’s horrified by the blood he sees when he’s finished and guilt and a sick sense of pleasure flares in his chest.  

 “I’ve hurt you.” Bates whispers from his precarious position on the edge of the bed, catching his breath and willing energy back into his limbs so that he can get up and leave.

 “Good.” Thomas says and he’s smiling again, though, Bates can see that this time there’s nothing behind it. It’s then he notices the emptiness in Thomas’ eyes. “I deserve it.”

 “Why?”

  “You said it yourself, I’m a sick man.”

 Bates frowns but he doesn’t say anything.

 He leaves minutes later without either of them saying another word.

 He tries to avoid Thomas the next day and does a good job of it until the early afternoon when the family are either all out or resting and the majority of the downstairs staff have nothing to do but while away the time in the servants’ hall.

 He sees the marks he had left on the other’s face, thankful that Thomas had been more careful he had and left him practically unmarked, and the way he holds himself stiffly and walks with the smallest of limps and he wonders why no one says anything to him, asks him if he’s okay or if he needs a couple of hours abed to recover himself.

 Instead he’s subject to snide remarks about his unusually quiet mood and he retaliates without his usual biting words before being scolded by Carson.

 Bates watches and frowns and wonders.

 The next few days pass quickly and life continues on as it ever did.

 Thomas recovers himself and Bates can hardly believe he ever felt sorry for the man when he reverts to his usual ways.

 Weeks pass and Bates’ frustration grows and grows because he knows that Thomas is deliberately trying to wind him up. The younger knows exactly how to get to him and Bates can’t help but react and play into Thomas’ plans.

 There are stolen kisses in the middle of the day and hours hidden away in each other’s rooms taking out their frustrations on one another.

 They don’t speak at these times, just act and react, and Bates soon finds his motivation for these meetings is no longer anger but  _need_.

 He no longer hunts out Thomas in those quiet moments purely to do battle or crawl into Thomas’ bed at night to wake him and punish him for his actions earlier in the day.

 Now it is because he wants to see Thomas, to actually see  _him_ , and not the mask he uses like a shield in the presence of the others.

 And it’s strange, really, because Bates knows everything about this man.

 He knows every blemish and every imperfection.

 He’s seen the scars and the face Thomas makes when he’s on the brink of bliss.

 He knows where Thomas likes to be touched and what makes him uncomfortable.

 He knows everything about the man but he doesn’t actually know anything about  _Thomas_.

 He’s never the one to seek out Bates for anything beyond the physical intimacy that they share but he never opposes the older man when all Bates wants to do is lie in bed and hold each other.

 Bates spends hours speaking, telling Thomas about his past and his musings on the Crawleys and his hopes for the future , and Thomas listens without complaint and its… good.

 Thomas never offers information and Bates doesn’t pry.

 He’s scared for him, though, because he’s seen the way Thomas has set himself to self-destruct.

 He does things, still, to deliberately infuriate Bates. He pushes and pushes and snipes and schemes  until he gets Bates to do exactly what he wants and it sickens him because Bates doesn’t want to hurt Thomas anymore.

 Not after that first time.

 But Thomas demands it from him, begs him for it, and Bates can only comply, though, he never hurts like he did that once.

 It takes him months to realise that Thomas sees the pain as something he deserves, a punishment for something that Bates doesn’t understand.

 He doesn’t dare to ask.

 He doesn’t want to ruin what they have with questions that Thomas won’t answer.

 He lets himself fall in love with a stranger and just hopes that the stranger loves him back because Thomas never says.

 He never says anything.

 And then one night when Bates slips into Thomas’ room, minutes before midnight, he finds the younger man sweating and trembling and crying as he fights away an imaginary foe in his sleep.

 Bates is by his side in a second, dropping down onto his knees and trying to rouse his lover with gentle words.

 The grip of the nightmare is strong but Thomas manages to shake it off after a few minutes of struggling.

 His eyes are wide and wet as they glance around the room in panic before settling on Bates’ face.

 “Thomas?” Bates whispers, uncertain if Thomas recognised him for who he was. “It’s okay, it’s me. It’s John.”

 Thomas muffles a whimper with his fist and seems to collapse in on himself as he begins to sob.

 And Bates is frightened because he has never seen Thomas so out of control.

 He moves to sit on the bed and wraps his arms around the shaking man, expecting him to pull away but is relieved when he doesn’t.

 He waits until Thomas’s crying has quietened before he speaks again, “do you want to tell me what you were dreaming about?”

 “No.” Thomas says around a half sob. “But you want me to, don’t you?”

 “I want to help you.”

 Thomas sighs, shakily, “I know.”

 They lapse into silence and Bates holds Thomas close and tells him, “we have all the time in the world.”

 It’s nearly five minutes before Thomas begins to speak.

 “I came to work here when I was thirteen. My parents had just died and my aunt managed to get me an interview here at Downton to be a hallboy, they couldn’t afford to feed an extra mouth, you see, and she knew somebody who knew the head housekeeper, the lady before Mrs Hughes, and they put in a good word for me.” Thomas says, his voice flat. “It was hard at first, you know? Mum and Dad had just died the month before and suddenly I was miles away from home in a new place, a new life, really, surrounded by people I didn’t know. To say I was a bit of a handful in my first few weeks would be an understatement.”

 “You never stopped being a handful, did you?” Bates asks, fondly, planting a quick kiss to Thomas’ neck.

 “I did for a while.” He shrugs. “But then his Lordship’s valet took an interest in me.”

 Bates’ heart sinks and he fears what his lover is going to say.

 “Mr Whitmore, yes, he was keen on me.” Thomas says and he laughs but it is bitter and empty. “He told me I’d be a footman in no time with a face like mine and I believed him.  He filled my head with all sorts of things and I was nothing more than a boy, how was I to know any different? He was so kind to me when no one else seemed interested. I thought the world of him.”

 “But he didn’t… He never- did he?” Bates stumbles over his words.

 “He told me it was my fault. Said I seduced him but I never did.” Thomas is crying again now, tears rolling down his face and his breath hitching in his chest. “I just wanted to make him happy because he had been so good to me but he always got so angry afterwards. He told me I was a wicked boy and that God would never forgive me for what I had made him do.”

 Thomas laughs again but it’s choked and Bates tries to shush him.

 “It never stopped him, though. He’d be all smiles the next morning and I always just thought it was because of me and what I’d made him do. I believed every word he told me.”

 “You were a child.” Bates tells him and then, after a slight pause, he asks, “didn’t you tell anyone?”

 “And who would believe me? Carson already had me down as a troublemaker and no one else seemed interested. I didn’t have anyone to tell.”

 “Until now.” Bates says.    

 “Until now.” Thomas repeats and he sounds suddenly timid, “do you… do you hate me now?”

 “No.” Bates tells him, honestly. “You weren’t at fault, Thomas.”

 “But-.”

 “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 Thomas lets out a long sigh and sags into Bates’ arms, “I know that, most days, but there are sometimes when I feel so disgusting and I know everything he ever said to me was true. I just… I don’t know.”

 “How long did it go on for?”

 “A couple of years, until he got a job at another house.” Thomas buries his head in the crook of Bates’ neck. “I became a footman a year after he left but I knew I wanted to be a valet like him. I wanted to help keep the hallboys out of trouble, keep them safe, but somewhere along the way… I was just so bitter. I know I treated William badly but I couldn’t help myself. He had Carson and everyone else on his side and no one had ever been there for me. I was jealous.”

 “Is that why-?”

 “I’m a bad person. I deserve to be hurt.”

 “No.” Bates tells him. “You’re not. You’re not a bad person, you’ve just been hurt very badly.”

 “That’s not what everyone else thinks.”

 “Not everyone else.”

 “Yeah?” Thomas asks. “And what do you think?”

 “You’re a good person, Thomas. You just hide it very well.”

 Thomas laughs and this time it is a happier sound, “really?”

 “I believe so. Do you want to know something else?”

 Thomas offers him a small smile, “yeah.”

 “I love you.”

 “Do you?”

 “Yes.”

 Thomas’ smile widens, “good.”

 It’s Bates’ turn to laugh, “and do you not have anything to say to me?”

 “Perhaps.” He kisses Bates and the older man can taste the bitter tang of drying tears on his lips. “But only if you promise me one thing.”

 “Anything.”

 “Don’t be like him, please, I couldn’t-.”

 “Thomas.” Bates cuts him off. “I love you, I’m not going to hurt you.”

 “You promise?”

 “I do.”

 “Then I love you, too.”

 Bates smiles and their lips meet once again.  


End file.
